One Day
by MizzFictionista
Summary: Each new day brings some inspiration into the life of travel writer Edward Cullen, but today, he just might find his muse. (AU/AH and rated M for language)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters, though sometimes I wish I did. All rights to author Stephenie Meyer.

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One – Collide

My word processor is fucking up again, and I have to restrain myself from uttering something obscene out loud in the middle of this half-empty airport terminal. Pretty sure curse words are curse words even in France.

I dig into my duffel bag for my flash drive, thanking the guy upstairs that I brought my back-up files in my carry-on luggage. I'm going to need them this time.

While the device loads, I glance up at the nearby departure screen. My flight back to Seattle is on time–for the moment anyway.

_Please,_ I silently pray, _don't let there be a storm delay because it's raining buckets back there._

I never thought I could get tired of life in Paris, but here I am. Mom was right; there is no place like home. I should've listened.

_Too late now, you idiot. Your mother's dead, your father wants nothing to do with you, and you're a third-rate writer with no solid income. Great job._

I didn't have much to my name back in Washington, but I hoped that my Uncle Carlisle and Aunt Esme would be merciful enough to give me a place to stay for a few days until I straightened my shit out. I had been traveling all over the place for inspiration since I'd graduated from high school, blowing through nearly my entire college fund in the process. My dad never forgave me, but Mom was a different story. I got my writing passion straight from her, and even though she feigned anger to appease my father, I knew she secretly approved of my decisions. It broke my heart when I found out she was gone.

"Excusez-moi?" a feminine voice asks, pulling me from my reverie.

I look up to find a pair of dark chocolate irises staring back at me. I can tell from her accent that French doesn't come easy, so I take my chances and revert to my native tongue. "Oui, can I help you?"

The brunette in front of me takes her time, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip. She seems to be surprised that I speak English.

_Wait, why the fuck am I staring at her mouth?_

My gaze flits back to her eyes, one brow arched as I wait for her to respond.

"Um, is this seat taken?" She gestures to the one beside me. _Of all the seats in this place, she chooses that one? Brilliant._

I'm not in the greatest of moods and I can't stand proximity to others while I'm writing, but something inside persuades me to not be rude.

"Be my guest."

I reach down to move my belongings out of her way before returning to my computer screen, but it's no use. I'm distracted now. I spend half of the next hour before boarding time browsing mindlessly through the internet and sneaking glances at the girl next to me. Her dark locks of hair have been tied up into a messy ponytail. She's not model material, but she's quite pretty. Beautiful, even. _Shut up, Edward. You don't even know her name_.

As if privy to my thoughts, she speaks up again. "I'm Bella."

I do my best to stifle my amusement. It's just too perfect. "Edward," I respond. "I think you might be in the wrong country." That's as much as I can muster without choking on my own laughter.

She giggles–a sweet sound, almost like wind chimes. "Believe me, my Italian is even worse than my French."

"Oh boy. Perhaps we should stick to English," I say, my tone one of teasing.

I watch the blood rush to her cheeks, tinting them with a rosy color. It takes me a minute to realize I'm staring again. I mentally berate myself as she continues.

"Yes please, let's. Are you headed into Seattle too, Edward?" she asks.

I shut my laptop and put it aside, sensing that this conversation may last. "Yeah, going back home. What about you?"

Bella nods. "The same. School is calling my name."

"Oh?" I'm genuinely curious to know more.

"Junior at University of Washington, majoring in fashion design."

That's when I notice her outfit. It doesn't take a professional to know that her fashion sense is chic. I wouldn't be surprised if her entire wardrobe consists of designer labels.

"Wow. Paris must've been a blast for you then." I chuckle softly.

The corners of her mouth twitch up into a smile. "You bet. I was actually here on an exchange scholarship. Three amazing months in one of the biggest fashion centers in the world. What brought you here?"

That is a difficult question to answer. "Life," I utter vaguely with a shrug. "Haven't stayed in one place for too long since high school graduation. I'm a traveler at heart."

Bella surprises me by not going for the obvious questions about my parents or my career. "That sounds awesome, though I have no idea how you do it with the constant culture changes," she answers with a light laugh.

"It's not so bad. I pick up languages fairly quickly, unlike _somebody_." I'm grinning like an idiot again, and Bella is shaking her head at me, likely half in amusement and half in embarrassment.

"You're never gonna let that go, are you?" she asks, pursing her lips in an attempt to hide the smile that threatens to give her emotions away.

My grin widens. "Never," I echo.

With a playful roll of her eyes, Bella reaches into her purse, fishing for something. "I hope you're nowhere near me on that plane then."

She takes out her boarding pass, scanning it for a seat designation. "17A. You'd better be in the 40s or beyond," Bella jokes. At least, I think she's joking. I hope so.

I slide a hand into the pocket of my coat to check, pulling out a similar piece of paper. I blink a few times, trying to figure out if this is some kind of prank. The number and letter remain the same, so I guess my sanity is safe for the moment. "17B," I declare with a victorious smirk.

Bella sighs dramatically. "Just my luck. Well, at least I get the window," she says, her gaze meeting mine. Despite her antics, I can tell that she's just as happy about this as I am.

And suddenly, I find myself wishing desperately for that storm delay.

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**A/N: **Please R&R! Any commentary would be helpful. Thanks for reading and stay tuned for the next chapter in the coming days.


	2. Chapter 2

Two – Breathe

An announcement over the intercom interrupts my conversation with Bella. It's time for us to board.

Bella gathers her belongings while I shuffle through mine for my passport. She's shaking her head as if amused, but not at all surprised, by my lack of organization.

Once I find it, I gesture forward. "Après vous," I utter with a grin. She accepts my attempt at chivalry without a word, but I catch the slightest hint of a smile on her lips as she moves to stand in front of me in the line that has formed just outside the gate.

Once her documents are checked, Bella stands aside to wait for me. I shoot her a grateful smile, but she isn't looking my way. She's glaring daggers at someone just beyond me. My gaze follows, and I'm surprised to meet the eyes of a female airline attendant who is blatantly checking me out instead of focusing on her job. Strawberry blonde. I prefer brunettes.

"All set, Mr. Cullen. Have a lovely flight," the woman says, flashing me her version of a million dollar smile. It's worth about three cents in my book. Maybe not even that much.

"Thanks," I mutter under my breath, not bothering to look at her. I walk over to where Bella is standing, nudging her side. "Let's go, you nutcase." Bella gives the woman one last dirty look before glancing up at me. "Sorry," she says, shrugging nonchalantly. "Not sorry."

One thing's for sure–this flight is going to be more interesting than all of the others I've taken combined.

.

.

.

Boarding the plane is an absolute nightmare. Families are crowding the already-narrow aisles and someone's baby is screaming bloody murder. As we wait to get to our seats, I mentally scan through my survival guide. _Laptop?_ _Check. Sound-canceling headphones? Check. Intriguing neighbor? Definitely check._

Thankfully our row comes into view rather quickly.

"17A and 17B," Bella declares. "Are you sure this is your seat?"

"Bella," I reply with a smirk. "Are you _trying_ to get rid of me?"

She raises her hands in mock innocence. "I'm doing nothing of the sort," she responds, her tone one of playful indignation.

"Right." I'm chuckling now, even more so as I watch Bella struggle to put her carry-on luggage into the overhead compartment. "Need some help there, chérie?"

Her expression morphs rapidly from contentment to momentary confusion followed by gratitude. I can tell that she doesn't think I've noticed, but on the contrary, I tend to be quite perceptive. She voices her thanks and slides into her seat, letting me take care of the heavy lifting while she settles in.

I stow our bags away and follow her lead, clearing the path for other passengers.

"Edward?" Bella asks quietly.

"Hmm?"

She hesitates for a second, toying with the buckle on her seat belt. "Did you just call me 'cherry'?"

I honestly don't know whether to stare in disbelief or burst into guffaws. "Were you _not_ just in France for three months? Surely all sorts of guys have asked you out and called you that by now," I finally answer.

_Way to be subtle, douchebag._

Bella whispers so softly that I almost miss it altogether. "No."

Now I'm really curious. "As in, no, not in France, or no, not being called chérie?"

"I'm on this flight with you, aren't I? The latter," she mutters.

Holy _shit_. This girl cannot be serious.

"Huh," I say in surprise, but I'm not going to pry. "Well, it's just a term of endearment. Darling, dear, that sort of thing."

Gone are all traces of sassy Bella from the strawberry blonde incident. Shy Bella's back.

"Oh," Bella remarks offhandedly, and I have to wonder if she's offended by the word. "I wasn't trying to be sarcastic." I don't even know why I'm defending myself.

She peeks up at me through her lashes. _Damn, that's adorable._

"It's not you, Edward." Bella gestures out the window. We're slowly rolling across the tarmac.

I'm lost. "Hang on, what then?"

She deliberately leans back against the seat, her eyes fluttering shut, slender fingers gripping the armrests. "I'm sort of, um, claustrophobic?" It sounds more like a question than a statement.

Now I realize the reason behind her timidity. She's been worried about my reaction this whole time, though I can't imagine why. It's going to take a lot more than a common fear to send me running for the hills. Heaven knows I have a plethora of issues that are much more cause for concern.

"You really must have wanted to come here to put yourself through this," I say simply.

She nods ever so slightly. "Yeah…" she trails off.

"And?" I prompt.

Bella exhales a breath. "And I'll be perfectly fine once we're above the clouds, but until then, I might need some moral support." She reluctantly releases her death grip on one armrest, reaching for my hand. "Is this okay?"

_Better than okay._ _Way better_.

I clasp her hand gently in my own, secretly glad she'll be too preoccupied to notice the grin on my lips. "Sure thing, Bella."

We remain with our fingers entwined for who knows how long. Bella squeezes my hand tighter as the plane picks up speed. I have no objections. In fact, I'm almost hoping she won't let go any time soon.

It's such a simple gesture, but it gives rise to a feeling that I haven't been familiar with for a long time–belonging.

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**A/N:** Sigh. I love these two, and I hope you do as well! Much love to all of you who have stopped by to read, and shoutout to the lovely MazzyStarla for helping me spread the word.

If you're curious as to my Edward's and Bella's backstories, don't fret. They'll have plenty of time to chat about good times (and bad ones) over this fairly lengthy flight. Stay tuned!


	3. Chapter 3

Three – Surrender

It's been about half an hour since takeoff. I've got my iTouch on, bopping my head to the music.

In the seat next to me, Bella is curled up and fast asleep, her legs tucked against her petite frame beneath a blanket. Her expression is serene, leading me to briefly wonder what she could be dreaming of.

Just then, one of my favorite tunes comes on. I can't keep myself from lip-syncing along.

**Been all over the world,  
Done a little bit of everything  
Little bit of everywhere  
With a little bit of everyone.**

**All the girls I've been with,  
Things I've seen, it takes much to impress  
But sure enough your glow  
It makes your soul stand up from all the rest…**

Something pokes at my arm. I turn in Bella's direction to find her wide awake with a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. "I enjoy hearing your voice, Edward, but unless you want to give this entire plane a free concert, I suggest you pipe down."

_Fuck. This is why I shouldn't be allowed in public. _

"Um," I say, floundering for some sort of response. "Thanks, I think?"

Bella nods, giggling. "No problem."

I need to divert her attention. "So you like my voice, huh?" I ask, smirking over at her.

She avoids my question, resorting to hiding under the blanket on her lap. _Mission accomplished._

"Come out, come out, wherever you are."

"Fine," Bella grumbles, reluctantly showing her face again. "By the way, what song was that? Those were some interesting lyrics."

_Uh-oh._ "How much did you hear?" I'm hoping it was just the last few words.

"I believe it started along the lines of 'all the girls I've been with'? Yep, sounds right. Do tell."

Now it's Bella's turn to smirk while I wish I could bury myself in a hole somewhere.

"It's, uh, One In A Million. Ne-Yo," I answer.

She ponders over that for a moment. "Never heard of it," Bella declares. In response, I offer up one of my ear buds.

Once Bella accepts, I click back to start the song from the beginning. Though I can feel Bella's eyes on me, I mouth the words anyway.

**Girl, you're so one in a million  
****You are  
****Baby you're the best I ever had  
****Best I ever had  
****And I'm certain that  
****There ain't nothing better  
****No, there ain't nothing better than this.**

Hitting the pause button, I turn to her at the end. "What did you think?"

"Very catchy and a sweet message," she says with a smile.

"I think so too. I can relate to quite a bit of his music."

Bella's brows shoot up. "Yeah? All those girls you've 'been with', huh?"

_Damn it. She's never going to let me live that one down._

On a whim, I decide to come clean. "Not all that far-fetched, actually."

The shocked expression on Bella's face is priceless.

"Say what?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I never stayed in one place for too long, so long-term relationships were out of the question. You could say that I have commitment issues basically all around."

The silence is deafening.

_Smooth, Cullen. She probably thinks you're some sort of player now._

"Don't I know that feeling," Bella responds moments later.

My expression must be incredulous.

She glances at me with a sheepish smile. "You're not the only one on this planet with relationship problems, Edward. You remember how I said I never dated in France?"

I nod slowly, trying to figure out where this is going.

"Well, that's because my boyfriend is in Washington."

Yeah, _that_ definitely explains it. I should have guessed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask. "I'm a fairly good listener."

Bella ponders over my offer for a minute. "Kind of a long story–"

I'm unable to refrain from interrupting. "Just look around, chérie. I've got plenty of time."

"Touché," she says.

"Hey, you do know French after all," I remark with a grin, trying to ease the tension.

My comment earns a quiet giggle before Bella begins her story.

"I moved to the town of Forks when I was sixteen. It was the middle of my junior year."

There is only one high school in Forks. Bella must have enrolled the year after I'd graduated.

"If I had my way, I wouldn't have left my home in Phoenix, but my stepdad's job transferred him to Florida. I didn't have the heart to make my mom stay with me, and I couldn't stay alone, so I was shipped off to my dad for the rest of my high school years. I was a loner at Forks High until I met Mike. He was sweet, always going out of his way to make me feel comfortable."

_Sweet my ass. What a marshmallow._

I'm surprised to hear Bella laughing next to me. "Marshmallow, really?"

I didn't even realize I said that out loud. Oops?

"Uh, nothing," I mutter. "Go on."

She shoots me a skeptical glance before continuing. "Anyway, he ended up asking me to junior prom. We had a good time, and Mike acted like a gentleman, so naturally I didn't hesitate when he asked me out during the summer before senior year. Everything was fine, even after we ended up at different colleges. We were still close enough to see each other on weekends. Then early in my second year, his sister died in a car crash. Mike hasn't been the same since then. He's really…protective of me. It's like he thinks the same thing could happen to me if he doesn't play watchdog, and as much as I understand that his intentions are good, the lack of space has become stifling. One of the mains reasons I was so insistent on Paris and also why I'm a little worried about heading home."

And here I was, thinking her problems could be nothing close to the magnitude of mine. God, I really needed to get my head out of my ass.

"I'm not sure what to say," I initially admit, still processing this new information. "Have you talked to him about it?"

Bella shakes her head. "Not recently. Every time I've tried, he apologizes and backs off for a couple days, but then it's back to square one. One step forward, two steps back."

"That's no way to treat someone, even despite what he's been through," I murmur softly before I comprehend what I'm saying. My mind has drifted back to my acts of rage and recklessness following my mother's death.

I've caught Bella's attention. "What makes you say that?" she asks.

I know that I can trust this beautiful girl sitting next to me. I also know that she won't judge me for a single thing I say. Why, then, is it so difficult to just open my mouth?

I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding.

_Here goes nothing._

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**A/N:** Lots of tense moments going on here! Just wanted to stop and thank all of you who have been so kind as to follow/favorite/review this little baby of mine. It means more than you know.


	4. Chapter 4

Four – Acquiesce

"Well, Bella, I can relate to his situation because I've lived a similar experience," I finally say, turning to meet her sincerely inquisitive gaze. She's quiet, waiting for me to go on.

I take a moment to compose my thoughts, a quote from a movie I'd seen recently popping into my head.

_Sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage._

Yeah, I was insane all right, but the courageous part? Questionable.

"Shortly after I turned nineteen, my mom passed away. She'd had breast cancer when I was in my early teens, went through chemo and the whole nine yards before finally reaching remission, but she relapsed around the time I graduated. And when I decided to leave and embrace my 'fuck this shit' attitude, she didn't say a word of it to me. She let me go, eyes twinkling with admiration for what she called my free spirit despite the tears that stained her cheeks. I had no fucking idea until my dad called me from the hospital, asking me to come home for her funeral. I was in Singapore at the time, close enough that I could jump on a plane and be there before much time had passed, but did I? Not a chance. I was beyond pissed at everyone, everything, stuck in the anger stage of grief. I didn't go home, didn't answer any calls, didn't do anything but drown my sorrows in alcohol. I'm sure I don't have to elaborate on the sort of debauchery that comes along with drunken stupors."

I didn't care that I was raving on about this in front of a couple hundred strangers. It's not like they were listening to me. It's not like they cared. But Bella did, and I could see it written all over her face.

"Anyway, there was this girl I hooked up with once. Her name was Angela, Angela Weber. I thought it was going to be just another fling, but something sparked between us. That was the first time I ever considered settling down. Four months later, we were engaged. She was nineteen, I was twenty. We were a bunch of crazy kids, but of course, we didn't see it that way at the time. Ang came home the night of Mom's death anniversary to find me shitfaced. She didn't know of the date's significance–I'd never told her the specifics–so naturally, she was upset with me for reverting to past habits. In the midst of an argument, I came about three inches from slapping her straight across the face. I don't know what stopped me, but when I look back on it now, the thought is revolting. The ring was on my nightstand the next morning. I never saw her again."

The silence between Bella and me is deafening. I'm bracing myself for reactionary disgust when a warm hand slides securely into my own.

"Oh, Edward," Bella simply sighs, lifting the armrest that divides our seats to lean her head against my shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Those few words should mean little to me. I've been an object of sympathy for a long time now. Somehow, though, it feels like the weight of the world has suddenly been lifted off my shoulders. I can breathe a little easier.

.

.

.

Not long after my tell-all of sorts, the flight attendants begin to make their way down the aisles on either side of the aircraft with beverage carts. Bella hasn't shifted her position at all, and if it weren't for her fingers laced so snugly between mine, I would have assumed she was asleep.

"Bella?" I murmur softly, trying not to startle her.

She lifts her head ever so slightly in answer, looking up at me. "Hmm?"

I nod in the direction of the nearest attendant, who is currently taking the order of the man seated in front of me. "Want something to drink?"

Bella rubs the beginnings of sleep from her eyes. "Coffee, please?"

"Trying to stay up all flight?" I tease before turning my attention to the individual now patiently waiting beside my seat.

"A black coffee for the lady and tea with cream and sugar for me," I say, voicing my thanks as the drinks are handed to us. Bella takes a sip of hers before arching a brow.

"How'd you know I like my coffee black?"

I grin over at her. "I read minds. Didn't you know?"

She rolls her eyes, giving my arm a playful shove. "Any other special talents I should be aware of?" I can hear the amusement in her tone.

"Um," I reply, pretending to think. "I have lightning fast ninja reflexes. Flash's got nothing on me."

"Okay then, superhero geek," Bella utters between laughs. I'm honestly surprised by how quickly our conversations can shift in mood, but at the same time, I appreciate that she knows how to respond to everything that comes out of my mouth. I've always held a certain admiration for people with quick wit. "One more question."

"Shoot." This girl could ask me about the most embarrassing thing I've ever done in my life–which may or may not involve lace lingerie and a crowded art museum–and I'd answer. My censor was shot to hell a long time ago.

"Tea, really?" she remarks.

I put my Styrofoam cup down on the tray table, thankful I didn't just take a sip and end up choking. "Yeah, about that…probably spent too much time in India and England."

Bella's eyes widen like I've just told her I kill puppies for a living. "You _what_?"

"Is traveling against the law or something?" A slight smirk appears on my lips as I speak.

"No," she says after a moment, tucking a travel pillow against the wall of the plane. "But visiting places I've only dreamed of might be. You have to tell me about them, Edward."

"Deal," I agree, summoning up my storyteller voice. This is one thing I can, in fact, do well. "Once upon a time…"

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**A/N:** I took a risk with Edward's backstory here, so feel free to review and tell me if you think it was a smart move or not. Just know that I can't please everyone, and I have to write in the direction that my characters lead me. Thanks for reading and, as always, being patient!


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